


Desolation

by breakofday



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:43:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakofday/pseuds/breakofday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's luck runs out when he's captured by Smaug the Terrible. The dragon hasn't had much entertainment, and makes Bilbo his new plaything. The hobbit must either escape or give in to the horrible reality of his situation.</p><p>Main focus will be on Smaug/Bilbo and Thorin/Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sort of started out as a complete crack pairing thanks to Martin Freeman as Bilbo and Benedict Cumberbatch as Smaug, but it turned into something a lot more serious. The italicized paragraphs at the beginning are direct quotes from J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. In case you’re interested, it comes from chapter twelve, “Inside Information”. If you’re wondering what Smaug looks like, I got my inspiration from this fanart on 4chan. NWS and I’m not sure who to credit them to. If you know, please tell me. Thanks! http://images.4chan.org/y/src/1356918869785.jpg http://images.4chan.org/y/src/1356892857923.jpg

_“I might have guessed it,” said Bilbo. “Truly there can nowhere be found the equal of Lord Smaug the impenetrable. What magnificence to possess a waistcoat of fine diamonds!”_

_“Yes, it is rare and wonderful indeed,” said Smaug, absurdly pleased. The dragon rolled over. “Look!” he said. “What do you say to that?”_

_“Dazzlingly marvelous! Perfect! Flawless! Staggering!” exclaimed Bilbo aloud._

_After he had seen that Mr. Baggins’ one idea was to get away. “Well, I really must not detain Your Magnificence any longer,” he said, “or keep you from much needed rest. Ponies take some catching, I believe, after a long start. And so do burglars,” he added as a parting shot, as he darted back and fled._

Most unfortunately for the young hobbit, he had anything but a long start, and Smaug had been expecting trickery. There was an enormous poof of red smoke, and the fire drake vanished from his bed of gold, reappearing just in front of the tunnel that lead to safety. His appearance, however, had changed. Instead of the enormous beast that had vanquished Dale in a single day, he had shrunk somewhat to the size of a man. Horns were mounted atop his head amidst black hair, his body coated with dark red scales, and his wings flared menacingly to the side, his wingspan enough to make even the great Eagles envious. His face was that of a man’s, with high cheekbones and a prominent nose.

For dragons, you see, possess their own type of magic, a very rare and somewhat weak ability, but just enough for them. Poor Bilbo was caught completely off guard, running straight into the dragon and falling on his back. The magic ring slipped from his finger, clinking as it bounced into an enormous pile of gold coins. With a sinking heart, the hobbit knew that he would never see the little band of gold again.

He had other things to worry about just at this moment, however. The humanoid Smaug stood before him, his wicked black eyes shining with delight. Bilbo was very much visible to him now.

“Barrel-rider,” he hummed. His eyes never left the little hobbit. “And what, pray tell, are you? Certainly no Man or Elf, but nor are you Dwarf, or Orc, or Goblin.” Bilbo was too frightened to respond. Smaug grinned a toothy grin, a clawed hand stroking his cheek.

“Speak, Thief, or I shall have your tongue right out of your mouth.”

All Bilbo’s clever words had left him. It was all he could do to stutter out words, let alone a lie. “H-hobbit,” he squeaked. “I’m a hobbit.”

A puff of smoke escaped from Smaug’s nostrils, and he continued his terrible smile, now pacing circles around his prey. Bilbo debated escape, but his legs were shaking too much beneath him and he doubted he could get far without the drake catching him. Not that it mattered much. He supposed Smaug would eat him up all the same.

“I have never tried hobbit before,” the dragon said thoughtfully, his tail dragging behind him. “Though you wouldn’t make much more than a morsel, however tasty you may be.”

Not for the first time, Bilbo thought for his armchair by the fire, with the tea kettle whistling merrily. He wished to be anywhere else, even deep in the heart of the Misty Mountains with all the goblins and nasty creatures there. To think, he had gotten this far, only to die like this. He swallowed. He hadn’t thought to say a proper farewell to any of the dwarves. He much doubted he would get the chance now.

Smaug had stopped pacing, and was looking over the hobbit in such a way that made him very uncomfortable. Something finalized in those dark, cruel eyes and Bilbo’s heart leapt into his throat. _He’s decided what to do with me._

“Perhaps there are other uses for hobbits,” Smaug purred. There was a flash of movement, and before Bilbo could make sense of anything he was flat on his back on the cold floor, the half-man, half-beast crouched on his chest, leaning over him. Bilbo shuddered as a long, red tongue flickered across his cheek, tasting him.

“What’s wrong, little thief? I had _so_ enjoyed our conversation. It has, after all, been some time since I have had company.”

The hobbit tried to speak or squirm out from beneath him, but the dragon held him firmly. “You should have never stolen from me,” Smaug informed him. Something sharp pricked at Bilbo’s chest, and he realized with a thrill of horror that the dragon was slicing right through his shirt with a sharp claw.

“Thieves ought to be punished.”

A burst of flame from Smaug’s nostrils, and Bilbo’s shirt was nothing but ashes. His heart was racing as his trousers too were stripped away and incinerated. Cheeks red with shame, the hobbit tried his best to slip out of his opponent’s grasp, but there was nothing for it. Smaug was much too strong, even in his half-dragon shape as he was.

“Shh…it’ll only be worse if you struggle.”

Bilbo trembled uncontrollably as he felt that wicked tongue again, closing his eyes as tightly as he could and trying to imagine none of this was happening. It lapped over his body, focusing on the sensitive little nubs on his chest. Despite himself, it wasn’t long before the hobbit’s nipples were flushed and hard.

He couldn’t watch. It was easier to pretend nothing was happening, though the hot breath on his skin and the tongue along with it had his body reacting. Blood rushed south, his limp member starting to stir with unwanted arousal. A cry of frustration burst from his lips and he struggled desperately.

“Open your eyes, little hobbit,” the dragon insisted, and although Bilbo did his best to fight it, his eyelids flickered open. The spell of the dragon was taking hold of him.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please let me go. _Please._ ”

Smaug smiled, his tongue brushing across the hobbit’s cheek in an almost affectionate way. He was positioning Bilbo’s body now, his tail lashing this way and that as he nudged his legs apart. “Thieves must be punished,” he explained, in the voice a parent would use with a naughty child. “How will you learn your lesson if it is not taught to you?”

Bilbo whimpered as a black claw traced down his body. Death was better than this. He took back all his thoughts from earlier. He would rather be roasted alive than this. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I won’t ever steal again, never ever. I’m a rubbish burglar anyway, please. K-kill me, I deserve it.”

The dragon listened to his plea, an unreadable look on his strange Man face. “I am sure I will kill you eventually,” he said finally. “Though not just yet.”

He was about to start on a fresh argument, but Smaug was tired of listening. Bilbo felt something brush where it certainly shouldn’t, and a moment later he knew nothing but searing pain. He cried out and struggled and sobbed, but the thief’s misery brought the wyrm nothing but dark pleasure. Forcing the hobbit’s legs apart further, he plunged inside him. Bilbo screamed, his nails scraping desperately at the stone floor. His poor body had never been abused like this, and he was incredibly tight around Smaug’s large cock. The dragon thrummed in pleasure, smoke issuing out of his nostrils.

A few rough thrusts, and there was enough blood to ease the slide of muscle. Bilbo was sobbing and panting for breath, his body trembling with revulsion as he felt Smaug stretch out his insides far more than they were meant to stretch. He wanted to look away, to close his eyes, but he found for some reason that he just couldn’t. He watched with horror as the beast took him, using and abusing his body with rough movements and pleasured groans. Faster he moved, impaling the poor hobbit deep and making him cry out even louder. There was a flicker of pleasure with each hard thrust for Bilbo, but the sensation disgusted him and he focused instead on the agonizing pain of his body stretching around the intrusion.

It felt like years before Smaug had fulfilled his pleasure. Bilbo’s screams had died down to uncontrollable sobbing when he felt the dragon release, which triggered a fresh scream and a spasm from the hobbit. He was half-delirious with the pain, and even when Smaug left him be with a satisfied hum and a stroke of his tongue across the hobbit’s cheek, Bilbo could still feel the enormous thing inside him. He curled up on his side, shivering from cold and revulsion, still crying into the cold stone. It was a long time before darkness finally took him.


	2. Chapter 2

Sending the hobbit was the natural thing to do. He was the burglar, the smallest, the quietest, and most of all, he’d volunteered to scope out the dragon’s lair. Thorin Oakenshield, future King Under the Mountain, paced anxiously just outside the stone door that lead into the mountain. Bilbo had saved his life on several occasions now, and he’d grown very fond of him. 

“We should have never sent him in on his own,” Thorin growled to Balin. “Not now that Smaug has woken.”

Balin gestured to Kili, who was admiring the gold cup that Bilbo had pilfered. “Have faith in him, Thorin. He did manage to steal from under Smaug’s nose, and he has that magnificent magic ring. He’ll be just fine, laddie.”

The mention of the ring did bring some comfort to the prince. Even a dragon would be unable to see the hobbit with the ring on. Bilbo would be fine.

A terrible scream echoed up from the passageway, and Thorin’s blood ran cold.

“Bilbo,” he murmured, and would have charged down after him if Fili and Kili hadn’t held him back. 

“There’s nothing we can do,” Balin said quietly, and deep in his heart, Thorin knew he was right. Even if he did manage to get to the hobbit in time, Smaug would simply kill two rather than one. 

He sunk to his knees in front of the tunnel, listening to Bilbo’s screams and hating himself. 

X

If Thorin had thought the screaming was bad, it was even worse when it stopped. It had only lasted a few minutes, which was, in all honesty, much shorter than he’d anticipated. If Smaug the Terrible was to catch a thief, he would drag his death out much longer.

Fili, apparently, was thinking the same.

“Maybe he’s not dead,” the younger dwarf suggested, uneasy. 

Thorin nodded slowly. There could be a chance. And even if Bilbo was dead, Thorin was determined to at least give him a proper burial. They could at least try to retrieve his body.

There was a cry from the watchmen below of “dragon!” and the dwarves sprang into action. Thorin shepherded them into the mountain, waiting until everyone else was inside before joining them and sliding the stone door shut. It was dark and the air was thin, but it was far better than outside. They could hear the terrified whinnies of their poor ponies.

A haphazard plan was forming in Thorin’s mind. “Fili, Kili, with me,” he said sharply. “The rest of you, stay here.”

X

Bilbo had only just fallen into an uneasy sleep when he woke again. Smaug was gone, and there were voices calling his name, very familiar voices. He wondered if he’d gone mad from the pain and closed his eyes.

But there it was again! 

“Bilbo Baggins! Burglar! Hobbit!”

He frowned, opening his eyes and peering through the darkness.

“…Thorin?” he tried hesitantly. His voice was hoarse from screaming. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Thorin Oakenshield, is that you?”

Three loud voices cursed in Khuzdul, their voices thick with relief. Fili and Kili too, Bilbo thought dazedly.

“Bilbo, it’s us! Fili and Kili and Uncle, too!”

A flood of relief washed over Bilbo. He was saved! “Where are you?” he called back. “I…I can’t see you…”

The sound of shifting rock was his only reply for a moment, followed by a grunt and another low curse. “The dragon’s caved in the passageway.” Thorin this time, his voice low and rough with stress. Despite himself, Bilbo shivered at the sound. “…We can’t get you out right now, Master Hobbit.” 

The words sank in slowly. He was trapped.

“Are you much hurt?” Thorin asked, his voice concerned and anxious. 

“M-mostly my dignity,” the hobbit managed to say, on the verge of crying again. How long is he going to be stuck here as Smaug’s new favorite plaything? “I don’t think he wants to kill me. Not for some time.”

Thorin let out yet another curse. Bilbo had never heard him speak so much in Khuzdul. Perhaps it was a good thing he couldn’t understand the language of the dwarves.

A rush of violent wind made Bilbo’s heart stop in his chest, and he knew with a start of horror that Smaug was coming.

“He’s coming back,” he hissed to the dwarves. “Go, get out. He’ll smell you.”

“Bilbo!” Thorin’s voice sounded strange, almost…desperate. “I will come back for you.”

The little hobbit bit back a whimper. He wanted so badly to be out of here, to be safe with Thorin and all the rest of the dwarves.

“Hurry,” he whispered.

 

X

Smaug was a clever beast. While perhaps his senses had dulled somewhat from his long sleep, he knew the smell of dwarf. Striding towards the shivering, naked hobbit, he inhaled. Yes, the scent was fresh. Dwarves had been here recently. Likely they were trying to rescue the fourteenth member of their party. Another sniff. No, even better. They were still here, hiding behind the mass of rocks that blocked the passage from the treasure room. He gave the sniffling thing at his feet a disdainful look.

He almost left the little creature be. Almost.

Long, scaled fingers wrapped around the hobbit’s throat and lifted him into the air, razor sharp talons pressing against the soft skin of his neck. Bilbo choked, struggling wildly as Smaug slammed him roughly against a wall. His body still ached from the assault earlier, and this was only making it worse.

“You spoke with your dwarf friends, did you not?” the dragon hissed, a strand of black hair falling into his eyes.

Bilbo couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. He whimpered, nodding. 

“You cannot escape, little thief. The only way in or out of this place is the Front Gate. You will live out the rest of your miserable existence here, with me. Do you understand?”

His vision was beginning to go dark at the edges. He gasped and choked and nodded furiously, desperate for air. Smaug waited until he was on the verge of unconsciousness before loosening his grip, allowing the hobbit to breathe again.

Poor Bilbo had barely a chance to catch his breath before Smaug spun him around and slammed him face first into the wall again. His feet weren’t touching the ground, his body lifted up by the dragon pressed worryingly close to him. He was still struggling to breathe when he felt Smaug’s cock impale him. Any air left in his lungs whooshed out in a terrible scream.

The dragon was ruthless, his sharp teeth and claws biting into Bilbo’s soft body as he thrust deep inside him. The hobbit cried and screamed just as before, struggling against him, but he was pinned between the wall and Smaug’s arousal throbbing deep inside him. 

He was too senseless with the pain and the lack of oxygen to even notice when the dragon released, filling his tiny body with his seed. Smaug dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and there he lay, crying and gasping.

Thorin sat on the other side of the pile of rubble, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to draw blood as he listened to the sounds of the hobbit’s misery.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days, or so Bilbo guessed them to be, passed much the same. Smaug would hunt, sleep, count his treasure, and then play with his new toy, delighted with his reactions and the way Bilbo screamed. It amused him how the hobbit continued to fight despite everything. Each time he took Bilbo, it was harder, more violent, wanting to push him past his limits. Yet somehow the hobbit still bore it, writhing and crying underneath him without quite breaking. Smaug was quite determined to see the stubborn creature give up.

It was nearly a week before he succeeded.

Bilbo was asleep when Smaug came to him. He had been trying to keep from sleeping for fear of this very thing happening, and barely even stirred when the dragon rolled him over onto his stomach. His naked body was dirty and cold to the touch, his once plump frame now thin with travel and lack of proper sleep or food. Smaug considered him for a few moments, nosing his legs apart. That long, thin tongue slipped out, brushing across Bilbo’s soft backside. The hobbit made a little sound, but didn’t wake. Amused, Smaug leaned forward more, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh.

With a sharp cry, Bilbo finally woke, immediately starting to panic. His fear was nearly palpable, strong enough that Smaug could almost taste it. The hobbit struggled, but he didn’t stand a sliver of a chance. The dragon was on him in an instant, biting into his neck and making him cry out. Before the poor thing could start to beg, he buried himself inside his tight little body yet again, relishing in how those muscles spasmed around him. Bilbo screamed, but Smaug paid him no attention, biting and licking at his neck. His long claws dug into his sides, drawing blood and making the hobbit struggle even worse.

“Shh…this could be so good for you,” the fire drake grunted, burying himself deeper inside him. “Submit to me. Stop fighting. You may find you enjoy it.”

Bilbo sobbed, wishing with all his heart that he’d never taunted the dragon, that he’d stayed at home and dealt with the regret of never joining this quest.

Smaug was much slower with him this time. Each thrust was deep but purposeful, making Bilbo squirm and cry out. He could never predict when the wyrm would impale him. His movements were uneven, making it impossible to prepare for when the pain would strike more intensely.

But as Bilbo scraped his nails roughly against the stone, too breathless to beg for him to stop, he felt that flicker of pleasure again. The deepest of Smaug’s thrusts brushed against something that made him shudder with desire rather than revulsion. It felt…good.

It was so obvious now Smaug meant to keep him. Perhaps it was best he took what pleasure he could from this instead of dwelling on how much it hurt. He had no idea how long the dragon would keep him here, in the ruins of this Dwarven city, fucking his tight little body until his poor heart gave out. There was no chance of escape.

Bilbo stopped fighting.

The great beast chuckled when he felt the hobbit attempt to relax, felt those muscles starting to loosen around him. “There’s a good little thief,” he murmured, his long tongue brushing against his ear.

He rutted into him, settling into a steady rhythm and filling the hobbit’s insides with his enormous cock. It was still painful for Bilbo, but he focused on the pleasure, on that jolt of sensation that made him moan. He lifted his hips, rising to his knees as his own body began to stir with arousal. Soon he was crying out for a completely different reason than before.

When Smaug released, the hobbit was desperate for his own climax. His neglected cock was throbbing hard and heavy beneath him, and he whimpered, rocking back against the dragon still buried inside him. Amused and satisfied, Smaug let him. His arousal was softening inside him, but Bilbo was frantic, rocking back faster, fucking himself on the dragon. It wasn’t long before he finally hit the edge, sobbing in shame and pleasure as lines of hot, sticky release painted the stone floor just beneath him.

“Pretty little hobbit,” Smaug murmured in his ear, and pulled out of him, rolling the limp hobbit onto his back. He cleaned the remains of Bilbo’s essence off his naked body with his mouth, licking and sucking until nothing remained.

“Your name,” he breathed. “Tell me your name.”

Bilbo had no fight left in him, disgusted and ashamed with what he’d done. As the dragon crouched over him, he half-sobbed it out, his heart hurting far worse than his body.

“B-Bilbo Baggins…”

 

X

 

Thorin was fuming as he stalked back up the passageway to rejoin the company. All conversation died down and twelve anxious pairs of eyes moved to the king’s face. They had all heard Bilbo suffer.

“Well?” Fili demanded after a long pause.

Thorin shook his head. “I don’t know. I called for him as long as I dared, but there was no answer.”

The company grew noticeably more nervous at this announcement.

“Maybe he’s asleep?” Ori suggested.

Thorin gave no answer, stalking outside. He was frustrated and terribly worried for the little hobbit. He’d proven to be of sterner stuff than he looked, but how long could anyone hold up against a dragon? Thorin sat down heavily on the slab of rock that Bilbo had dubbed ‘the porch’. It seemed months now since he had been captured. The moon beamed down, bathing the dwarf in its light, and Thorin recalled that night, Durin’s Day, when the door had opened for them. For clever Bilbo. He could picture that smug smile on the halfling’s face perfectly. He’d been immensely proud of himself, and rightfully so.

 Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Thorin let his head fall into his hands, sighing deeply.

“…Uncle?”

Thorin did not stir. Fili sat down beside him, rock crunching beneath his boots. A moment later, Kili joined them both, sitting on the opposite side of his uncle. For a long moment, none of them spoke, the king and his nephews arrayed there in silence. Minutes passed, and Kili let his head drift to rest on Thorin’s shoulder.

“I miss Bilbo,” he said, rather unnecessarily.

Thorin nodded. “As do I,” he replied softly, wrapping an arm around each of his nephew’s shoulders.

Fili tensed, shaking Thorin’s arm off and pushing himself to his feet. “He’s not dead,” he snapped. “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

Thorin’s eyes met Fili’s, dark with grief. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“ _No!_ ” Fili’s knuckles were white around the hilt of his sword. “No. I won’t let you give up on him. Not after everything he’s done for us. We would all be dead if it weren’t for him! Or stuck in that damned elf prison!” He paced back and forth. “He could have left us for dead time and time again, but he didn’t. He fought for us, at the risk of his own life! Are you so driven by revenge that you are not willing to do the same for him?”

Thorin stood abruptly, and Fili was caught off-guard for a moment. “Do not think I don’t care,” he said quietly. “I do care. I would have Master Baggins here with us rather than trapped where he is. But I must look out for your own safety as well. I promised your mother.”

Fili wasn’t cowed in the slightest. “Do you remember when Azog had us cornered in the trees, with all his goblins and wargs? You went after him on your own. He would have killed you in front of all of us if Bilbo hadn’t had the courage to take on Azog by himself.” Thorin looked away, and Fili knew he had him. “How is this _any_ different?”

Kili stood as well, looking between the two. “What do we do?” he asked. “Thirteen dwarves against a dragon? That’s impossible.”

There was a pause.

“We don’t have to kill Smaug to free our burglar,” Thorin said finally. “All we need is a chance to get to him.”

“It may take some time, but we could unblock the tunnel,” said a voice from behind them. They turned to see the rest of the dwarves had filed out of the dark passage into the moonlight.  Dwalin, who of course had been the one to speak, was hefting a pickaxe over his shoulder. “Surely none of you have forgotten how to mine.”

Something like a smile twitched at Thorin’s lips.

 

Meanwhile in the heart of the mountain, their little hobbit slept soundly against the dragon’s side, a mighty wing unfolded across him to keep him warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies <3 Thank you so much for following and reviewing and kudos-ing! I really appreciate it and it keeps me wanting to write.
> 
> Anything in particular you'd like to see in here? I'm totally up for filling kinks. I have a few chapters that I'm not really sure what to do with, so I might end up filling them with just smut. 
> 
> Again, you're awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

Bilbo was granted access to Smaug’s bed after telling the dragon his name. The bed was an almost perfect circle amidst all the coins, which reminded the hobbit strongly of a large glittery nest. It wasn’t terribly comfortable or warm, but it was better than the ground, and keeping close to the fire drake kept Bilbo very warm indeed. He slept more soundly beside him than he had in quite some time.

It was difficult to feel much anymore. The first few days after he had given in to the dragon had been racked with guilt, but now, Bilbo hardly felt anything at all. Pain and pleasure he knew exquisitely well, both at the hands of his lover and tormentor.  Soft skin was starting to scar over, his body toughening under Smaug’s abuse.  It was easier to take it now, both because his body had started to grow accustomed and because the hobbit drew all the pleasure he could out of it.

 “Talk to me,” Smaug demanded one night, when a bruised and bloodied hobbit curled up against his side.

Bilbo looked up in surprise, his eyes raking over the creature’s face for the first time in some time now. “What about?” His voice was a bit hoarse with disuse, and he was still catching his breath from the punishment he had just endured.

“Anything. No riddles. I am very bored with riddles,” he explained, and Bilbo felt something like a smile twitching his lips upwards.

“Isn’t that how you’re supposed to speak with a dragon? In riddles?” the hobbit asked. But in looking at Smaug, he had to admit that he looked less like a dragon now than a man. Perhaps he’d grown used to him.

The dragon actually chuckled, a delightfully wicked sound that sent a chill down Bilbo’s spine. Brushing a clump of dark hair out of his face with a scaled hand, Smaug’s dark eyes met the hobbit’s.

“So it is said,” he replied, and leaned in to nuzzle Bilbo’s neck softly. “But you understand, I am sure, that I have not had a decent conversation in many long years. Any fool who has woken me has thought to speak in riddles. It has me half mad.”

“Yes, I suppose that would drive me mad too.” Hesitantly, Bilbo reached out to brush a finger across the curved horns set atop Smaug’s head. The dragon seemed to find that rather amusing, and his sound in response had the hobbit snapping his hand back quickly.

“Calm yourself, little rabbit,” Smaug said, raising a dark eyebrow before settling his head against Bilbo’s shoulder. “You have my permission to touch me however much you like. My appearance must seem unsettling to you.”

Granted permission, delicate hands gently reached out to stroke the dragon’s horns before sliding down to feel his hair. It was surprisingly soft and cool, dark with a little bit of a curl to it. Experimentally, Bilbo let his hands drift down further to caress the dark red scales that trailed down to his nose. Smaug’s eyes closed and he made a sound like a contented hum as Bilbo gently petted him. _How strange_ , Bilbo thought, _to have a lapful of purring dragon._

“On your back,” Smaug said abruptly, and Bilbo paused, surprised. Smaug had taken him only an hour previously. Sensing his hesitation, the dragon huffed, lifting his head and pushing the hobbit down.

“What are we –“

But before Bilbo could finish, Smaug’s head was between his legs, nuzzling against his soft cock and making him shudder. He moaned softly as that long, wicked tongue caressed him, his toes curling in pleasure. The dragon had never done this before, and Bilbo was a little nervous for what might follow.

It wasn’t long before the hobbit was stiff with pleasure and squirming underneath Smaug, his breathing fast and uneven.  He anticipated being taken, but he was wrong. Instead, to his surprise, he felt Smaug’s tongue slipping inside him. Bilbo whimpered, arching a bit at the intrusion. He was used to feeling pain at being breached, but not this time. It was more pleasure than he was accustomed to, and he shuddered, his eyes heavily lidded. The dragon smirked at the breathy moans escaping the hobbit, a clawed hand wrapping around his leaking hardness and stroking roughly. It only took a few strokes before Bilbo released with a loud cry, his body trembling uncontrollably as pleasure took him.

Smaug watched him with amusement, pulling the shaking hobbit into his arms and lavishing kisses and licks all over his face and neck. Bilbo moaned and snuggled closer, eyes still closed. Smaug held him close, adoring him with soft touches and kisses until the little creature dropped off into sleep, his face buried in the dragon’s chest.

X

Things were progressing slowly in the tunnel. Between the thirteen dwarves, there was only one pickaxe. They took turns taking shifts, two of them at a time. It was extremely slow going, and it was only making the dwarves more anxious.

On the plus side, Dori and Ori had found a stream not far from the Porch that ran down the mountain to join the River Running. They had been quick to refill their waterskins and took turns bathing. The water was cold, but it was better than nothing. They had not bathed since they were in Lake-town, nearly a month ago now. It felt so much longer than that.

Thorin didn’t sleep anymore. They had heard Bilbo’s voice from within the treasure room, and at least knew he was alive, but the sounds that came from him almost frightened Thorin more than when he had screamed. The fact that Bilbo had not even attempted to speak with them for nearly a week worried him even more. He was not sure how much of the hobbit they had known would be left when – _if_ – they rescued him.

During the nights, Thorin would work alone in the tunnel until his hands were too blistered and bloody to continue. Often times the others would find him in the mornings, unconscious with the pickaxe still held tightly in his ruined hands. After the first time, Oin had bandaged his hands, only for Thorin to rip through them the next night, giving the wounds no time to heal. His mind was too tormented with thoughts of Bilbo for rest. The only time he got any decent sleep was when he fainted from the pain.

Thorin stirred late one afternoon after a long night. He had pushed himself much further than he should have once Bilbo’s moans had started, and he had no memory of leaving the tunnel. And yet, here he was, lying on his side in his own bedroll. His hands were throbbing terribly and he groaned.

“It’s about time,” came a familiar voice.

Thorin forced his eyes open. Balin was sitting beside him, watching him very obvious disapproval. Slowly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing when he used his hands. They had been heavily bandaged, apparently while he’d been asleep. 

“I’m to keep an eye on you,” Balin said. “Oin’s orders. He says you aren’t allowed to go near the tunnel until your hands have healed.”

“Does he?” Thorin sighed, but it was to be expected, he supposed. As the one with the most medical knowledge, Oin had taken it upon himself to doctor everyone’s wounds. He’d threatened to put a watchdog on Thorin before, but the soon-to-be king hadn’t taken him seriously.

The older dwarf’s disapproving expression changed to sympathy, and he rested a hand lightly on Thorin’s knee. “We need you, laddie. It’s difficult for all of us, and hardest on you. I understand. But the younger ones need someone to look up to. Someone to lead them. You’ve been that leader before. We need you to be him again.”

Thorin said nothing, his head bowed. Guilt was rising up in his chest, and his hands throbbed worse than ever.

“Thorin, please,” Balin pleaded. “I know that strength is in you somewhere. I’ve seen it myself.”

Thorin still remained silent, and white bearded dwarf sighed. “Think on it, at least?”

There was another long moment of silence before the prince finally stood. “I wish to bathe.”

“Fili and Kili are already there.” Balin nearly jumped to his feet. “Let me remove the bandages on your hands, so they don’t get wet.”

Thorin nodded curtly, and Balin set to work, gently unwrapping the strips of linen and gauze from the wounds. He whistled in sympathy as prince’s palms were bared, raw and bloody from the constant abuse.

“He must have lost his ring,” Thorin said abruptly, and Balin glanced up in surprise.

“Hm?”

“Bilbo. His magic ring. The one that makes him invisible. He used it to save us, do you remember?”

The older dwarf hesitated, a little nervous of where exactly this was leading to. “I…suppose he must have.”

Thorin just nodded.

 

X

 

It wasn’t until Thorin was done bathing that he recalled Balin had mentioned FIli and Kili were at the stream as well. He’d been so distracted with his own thoughts that he hadn’t even considered looking for them. Dripping wet and nude, he hauled himself out of the stream and onto the grassy banks. He could hear raised voices some ways away, and Thorin recognized them as his nephews’ voices. A little concerned, the prince was quick to dress back into his armor, belting on Orcrist and leaving the rest of his clothes in a pile for now. If they were in danger, he didn’t have time to dress fully.

As he drew closer to the voices, however, he realized a bit sheepishly that he’d been mistaken. A trail of clothes led behind a rock, where Fili and Kili’s voices were emanating.

“Ah! Fili, yes, more!”

“Ha…greedy little brother, aren’t you? Alright…”

Quietly, Thorin slipped back to where he’d left the rest of his clothes and put them on, returning back to the Porch. It seemed all his suspicions for the past several years had been correct.

About a half hour later, Fili and Kili returned, both pink in the cheeks and grinning like fools. Thorin smiled slightly, pleased to see them so happy. It seemed even the darkest situations, there was a ray of light to be found.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the filler chapter. It gets better, I promise! There may be a few more filler chapters, but I'm getting there.


	5. Chapter 5

They heard nothing from Bilbo for the next few days. Sometimes Thorin suspected he caught the low murmur of voices, but if the hobbit was actually _speaking_  with Smaug... that frightened him far more than anything else.   
  
He remembered vaguely a story of Glaurung, Father of Dragons, whose magic bewitched a princess to forget entirely who she was. She knew nothing of the world or of herself, and in her ignorance she went so far as to marry her own brother. The spell was only broken when Glaurung was slain, at which point she cast herself into a river and her body was never found.  
  
Thorin had been told the story as a child, sitting in Grandfather Thror’s lap. Dragons were the subject of his favorite stories, particularly the ones in which they ate scores of elves. Great Uncle Fror had been killed by a cold-drake, as well as Great Grandfather Dain. Even tales of Scatha the Worm delighted him, though most of his story was more about Fram, the Man who slayed him and dared to claim the treasure that had rightfully belonged to the dwarves.  
  
What worried him was Bilbo’s knowledge of dragons. It was unlikely that fauntlings grew up with the same stories as dwarrows. Hobbits were so much tamer. While Thorin had grew up on tales of war and blood and gold, that was just the dwarf way. They were raised to be warriors and smiths, a stout people accustomed to danger.  
  
Bilbo was anything but, from what Thorin knew of him. He was reminded strongly of that first night in Bag-End, when the halfling toppled over just during conversation of Smaug. The king-in-exile realized for the first time how scared Bilbo must have been when they sent him alone to fetch the cup.  
  
“Forgive me,” he had murmured aloud, as though Bilbo could hear him. Kili had looked up in surprise and asked what for, but Fili had silenced him with a cuff across the head.

X  
  
The progress in the tunnel was slow. The dragon had blocked the entrance well, and one wrong strike would bring the whole thing down on their heads. As Bofur was the only one who’d really spent a lot of time mining, he had to teach everyone what to look for in order to keep the tunnel from collapsing completely. Thorin itched to do something, to help, but the Company never let him alone for a minute. With his hands in the condition they were in, he was forbidden from using them much, and he had to make do with watching the others work.  
  
Fili and Kili made good company, when they weren’t sneaking off. Speaking with them kept Thorin’s mind off Bilbo’s horrible situation and he focused instead on how very proud he was of them for what they had achieved. Kili had barely reached adulthood before they left, and he had still acted much like a child. While some of that was his personality, Thorin was impressed with how much more responsible and independent he seemed. Certainly, he stuck to his brother like glue, and doing anything without Fili seemed to frighten him, but he wasn’t so much of a baby anymore. He was a warrior, with an astounding number of kills under his belt for his age.   
  
Thorin had also come to appreciate and even respect his choice of weapon. While archery was a bit too Elvish for his taste, Kili had saved Thorin’s life alone several times with his sharp eyes and quick fingers. When Fili had pleaded for Kili to come on the quest as well, he had named Kili’s unique skills as one of the reasons for him to join them. Thorin had been skeptical, but he saw now that Fili had been right. Kili was an excellent hunter, quiet on his feet for a dwarf and still small enough that he could remain somewhat unnoticed. Without him, the Company would have starved to death.  
  
Fili too had proved himself. Thorin had less doubts in his blond nephew than in Kili, but Fili had still impressed him. His skill with his blade and knives had improved dramatically in the face of real battle, and he had adjusted quickly to the task. Between Dwalin and Thorin’s collective training, Fili had learned a great deal. But it wasn’t just that. Fili was a natural fighter. He was born to be a king, and Thorin had been grooming him into his heir since his childhood. His instincts served him remarkably well. All in all, Thorin was glad to have them both as his nephews.  
  
As for the recent development in their relationship, Thorin kept it to himself. They seemed happy enough together, and he loved them too dearly to wish them anything less than the best. The boys had always been very close since childhood, and he had suspected for some time now that perhaps they were closer than brothers maybe ought to be. Still, Thorin saw no harm in it. Dwarves were slow to love, but once they did, it was with a fierce and unbending passion. He had seen that love in his nephews, and he would not allow anyone to ruin that for them.  
  
Secrets did not keep long in this Company though, and that was just as well. When Ori caught his friends kissing by the river, half naked and flushed, everyone found out. Fili and Kili had been worried at first, but Thorin was ever their stalwart defender, just as he always had been. If anyone said anything negative against the princes’ relationship, they found themselves on their back with a blade at their throat.  
  
Thorin just didn’t tolerate that kind of behavior, and the Company learned quickly to keep their objections to themselves.  
  
X  
  
Bilbo had not dreamed in some time, but he did that night. He dreamed he was standing against Smaug. Not the Smaug that held him and warmed him, but the one that he had first seen, the enormous scarlet dragon, his scales glistening with gems and gold. The dragon towered above him, smoke billowing from his nostrils as he let out a huge burst of flame from his mouth.   
  
But Bilbo didn’t burn or scream or even feel any pain. The fire seemed to swallow him whole, licking at him and bathing him, until his skin began to peel. Frowning, he plucked at the dead skin, only for it to all come off in one horrible chunk. Instead of soft, hobbit skin, his arms were smooth with dark red scales, identical to Smaug’s. He looked back at the dragon, horrified, only to see that he was once more at his smaller size, pushing a clump of dark hair back behind his curled horns and smiling at him.  
  
“Mine,” Smaug told him, and kissed him.  
  
Bilbo woke with a cry of terror on his lips, jerking upright. His eyes immediately went to his arms, rubbing against them to be completely certain that there were no scales there. Smaug grumbled as Bilbo pushed away a leathery wing that had been outstretched over him, sliding down the immense pile of treasure.  
  
A golden eye opened, watching him lazily. “Just where are you going, my succulent little hobbit?”  
  
Bilbo pulled his knees up to his chest at the bottom of the pile, letting out a sigh. “Nowhere,” he replied softly. “Nowhere at all.”  
  
The dragon slid down after Bilbo, pulling him into an embrace. The hobbit didn’t fight, trembling slightly as Smaug’s arms wrapped possessively around him. He could feel his breath on his shoulder, and despite the nightmare, despite everything, BIlbo found himself curling closer, seeking out warmth and affection.  
  
 _Even with all his faults_ , Bilbo found himself thinking hazily, _he certainly does take care of me._  
  
Scaled fingers brushed across the hobbit’s lips, and he looked up into those entrancing golden eyes. A sudden feeling of immense calm washed over him, and he relaxed completely into Smaug’s arms.   
  
“Tell me what’s on your mind,” the dragon purred.   
  
Almost distantly, Bilbo heard himself spilling his heart out to his captor. “--and Thorin actually seems like he’s _worried_  about--”  
  
Smaug stopped him with a look. “Thorin?” he questioned, his curiosity peaked. The name seemed so familiar.  
  
“Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo informed him. “Son of Thrain, son of Thror, all of that nonsense. You know how dwarves are.”  
  
Smaug really did have the most lovely eyes. Gold, but at just the right angle, they looked almost scarlet. It was fascinating. Bilbo was quite certain he could stare at them forever. His lips too were surprisingly red. Funny how it took the hobbit so long to notice how pretty they were, twisted upwards just a little in that amused smile.   
  
“The supposed next King Under the Mountain,” Smaug commented, and Bilbo nodded.   
  
“He’s terribly full of himself,” he babbled. “Though I suppose he has reason to be. Balin told us the story of how he came to be called Oakenshield, and I think--”  
  
Smaug cut off the chatter with a wave of his hand. Bilbo immediately fell silent, watching the dragon with wide eyes.   
  
Smaug fixed him with another long stare, his gold eyes boring into the hobbit’s very soul. He was surprised it had taken this long to really drag Bilbo down under the dragonspell, but the little creature was completely under his power now. “I am King Under the Mountain now,” he intoned.   
  
Bilbo frowned.  
  
“I am King Under the Mountain, am I not?” Smaug pressed. There was a pause, and the hobbit nodded reluctantly, looking a little puzzled.   
  
Strange. Perhaps Baggins wasn’t quite as under his spell as he thought. Well, it wasn’t as though they didn’t have plenty of time to remedy that. Still, Bilbo was still accepting it. It was time for a little brainwashing.  
  
“They are not coming for you, little hobbit,” he informed him. Bilbo’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t break eye contact. Good. “They would not dare risk their skins for you, not like you have for them. Dwarves are terribly ungrateful. Believe me, my dear, I know.”  
  
The hobbit looked more confused than anything. It wouldn’t be difficult to pull him over to Smaug’s side, and the dragon continued, thoroughly enjoying the power he had over him.   
  
“It is so much better this way,” he purred into the halfling’s ear. “All this treasure is yours. The dwarves promised you a share, did they not? They would have never given it to you. Dwarves are so horribly greedy. You have seen it yourself, haven’t you, Bilbo?”  
  
The more Smaug spoke, the more Bilbo realized he was right. He nodded again. He remembered so clearly now how Thorin had stolen a golden button off his waistcoat, how Kili had tried to snitch Sting while he wasn’t looking.  This whole journey they had just been trying to take his things. They had given him the smallest rations they could, even! And after all the times he had gotten their necks out of danger. They were ungrateful, and rude, and greedy. Bilbo could see now they would have never let him touch even a single golden coin of the treasure.  
  
“They have been lying to you, halfling,” Smaug told him quietly, and something hardened in Bilbo’s face. The dragon suppressed a victorious smirk.   
  
“Tell me where they are,” the dragon hissed to him. “I will drive them off, and they will never lay a finger on your treasure. You earned it. They mean to steal it from you. Will you let them continue to plot and scheme against you?”  
  
“It’s mine!”   
  
Good. Smaug had finally got him. He smiled dangerously, brushing a kiss across Bilbo’s lips. “Tell me where they are.”  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I am so sorry this took forever to write! My life just kind of abruptly became super busy, and then my writing muse left me and everything I tried to do was crap, and I didn't want to put you guys through that. 
> 
> I'm ashamed to admit I only started doing my research on Tolkien dragons in the last few weeks, so I apologize for all my mistakes before. Also, I'm pretty sure I referenced Smaug's eyes as red in earlier chapters, and that was a lie, they are gold. A very, very pretty gold.
> 
> I'm not sorry about the cliffhanger. It was just too perfect.


	6. Chapter 6

“ _Dragon_!”

 

Fili and Kili dashed back towards camp, screaming a warning as loud as they could. They’d been sneaking off to have a moment of privacy when they caught a glimpse of the enormous scarlet beast emerging from the Front Gate.

 

Fili’s braids smacked against his face as he ran, Kili hot on his heels. He couldn’t help but feel relieved as the other dwarves sprang into action, Thorin herding the Company into the safety of the stone tunnel. They could hear the dragon coming now, the sudden rushing of the wind making it more difficult to run across the narrow path, but Fili didn’t dare waste a second.

 

The thing was that he _knew_  Kili was faster than him. Kili was built slender and tall for a dwarf, with slim fingers that made him an excellent marksmen and the lightness of feet that made him so great a hunter. And yet Kili was dogging on his brother’s heels, determined to see Fili to safety. If Fili weren’t so panicked at the moment, he would be touched at his little brother’s concern for him.

 

It wasn’t far to camp now, though the path narrowed dangerously. Usually the dwarves used ropes to maneuver this part of the mountain to avoid falling, but those had been lost in Smaug’s last attack. The drop was a good fifteen feet of sheer cliff and very solid rock. Fili was terrified of heights, and his steps faltered slightly as he approached the thin path.

 

“Fili,” called his brother’s voice from behind him. Fili swallowed his fear and dashed forwards then.

 

It was going to be close. The rest of the dwarves were safely in the tunnel now, with Thorin waiting anxiously for his nephews, eyes scanning the skies. The now furious winds meant Smaug couldn’t be far off. Fear choked in Fili’s throat and he ran faster, forgetting for a moment the dangerous slim path he tread.

****

One foot came down hard on nothing..

****

Fili swallowed a scream as he felt himself start to fall, sliding downwards to what would surely be his death. If the fall didn’t kill him, the dragon would. But then there was a sharp cry from his brother, and a hand closed tightly around his wrist. Kili had moved with sheer instinct, sliding down to his belly as soon as Fili started to fall and just barely catching him in time.  Fili was vaguely aware of Thorin shouting something, presumably curses, in their native tongue.

****

“I’ve got you,” Kili murmured. He struggled to pull Fili up, but the dead weight was too much for the slim archer to heave.

****

“Kili,” Fili started to say, but his brother cut him off.

****

“Shut up, it’ll be alright,” he insisted. His dark eyes were wide with panic, and he tried yet again to pull Fili up, but to no avail. The winds were worse than ever now, battering the blond dwarf against the rock face.

****

Smaug was coming. If Kili didn’t go now, the dragon would kill them both. Any left out in the open would die.

****

Fili was bleeding now, a gash drawn into his cheek from a particularly hard crash into the stone wall. His shoulders were aching from the strain of hanging on to Kili, and he could feel his grip starting to give. Kili couldn’t pull him up, not at this angle, and the dragon was so close...

****

Fili’s blue eyes met Kili’s brown ones. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and jerked both hands down hard, shaking free of Kili’s grasp.

****

X

****

Thorin had known what was coming, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of Fili slipping away. Even worse was Kili’s cry of anguish, the howls of anger and fear and grief already ripping from his throat.

****

Thorin had to wrestle his nephew back into the safety of the tunnel. Kili fought and screamed for his brother, tears rolling unashamedly down his cheeks. It broke Thorin’s heart to see him like this, but he would not lose both his nephews today. Fili’s fate was uncertain. The odds were not in his favor, but there was a chance, a small one, that he was alive, and would still be when they returned for him. But Kili could most certainly be saved, even if he didn’t want to be.

****

Thorin tossed Kili inside unceremoniously and pushed the stone door shut, sealing them in for now. That just made the young dwarf howl even more.

****

“You _left_  him!” Kili screamed. “We can’t leave him! You can’t, you _can’t_ , Thorin!”

****

“There was nothing we could have done without risking our own lives as well,” Thorin said softly.

****

“Then we _should have_!” his nephew spat at him. “Fili could be d--”

****

Kili couldn’t finish. The fight drained out of him in a moment and he collapsed into his uncle’s chest, sobbing uncontrollably. The king’s arms went around him immediately, muffling Kili’s grief into his shoulder as his fingers stroked through the young dwarf’s tangled mess of a mane. “I know,” he murmured to him. “I know.”

****

Thorin knew this pain too well. He could give anything to keep his nephew from having to bear it as well. Half a century after his death, Thorin still grieved for Frerin, the brother he had lost in battle. He had carried that scar on his heart for most of his life. For sweet, carefree, mischievous Kili to carry that as well would change him beyond recognition. In losing one nephew, Thorin would, in a way, lose both.

****

He prayed fiercely to Mahal and every other god he knew to keep Fili safe.

****

X

****

What the dwarves did not realize was that Smaug did not come alone. The dragon landed with a thump that made the ground shudder, and a hobbit toppled off his back, caught quickly by the fold of a leathery wing. Smaug set the halfling down carefully, admiring his prize. The little creature was utterly under his spell now, bedecked in dwarvish finery with that elvish short sword at his hip. Sting, he had called it.

****

What a tiny little Sting it was!

****

Smaug settled in not far from the Porch, his mighty bulk resting quite comfortably on the ground. Bilbo pointed to where the door was, impossible to see or open from here. Ah well, not a problem. The dragon had all the leverage he needed right here.

****

“Come on out, little dwarflings,” Smaug taunted.

****

There was no answer, unsurprisingly.

****

“Thorin Oakenshield.” Perhaps names would have a better effect. “I believe I have something of yours here. Go on, my darling. Say hello.”

****

Glassy blue eyes blinked up at Smaug uncomprehendingly. “Who am I saying hello to?” Bilbo asked, his voice dull and lifeless.

****

Oh. Hmm. How boring. Smaug had thought to receive more of a reaction after bringing the halfling here, so close to his beloved dwarves.

****

Nonetheless, it triggered a strangled dwarvish curse from the other side of the door.

****

“Yes, I have one Master Baggins with me,” the dragon said lazily. “Though he’s growing stupid and dull now. Until the son of Thrain comes out to speak with us, I think I shall have him hurt himself.”

****

X

****

Kili had lain still and silent in Thorin’s arms, trembling uncontrollably, but when he heard Bilbo’s voice, he could take no longer. He jerked up with a cry of both horror and relief. Bilbo was <i>alive</i>, but he was still very much Smaug’s prisoner. Thorin’s hand clamped over his mouth just a moment too late.

****

Smaug was speaking again from outside the mountain, and the dwarves strained to hear him.

****

“Oh no, dear, no maiming yourself. Just enough to--” The halfling cried out in pain, and Smaug chuckled. “Like that, yes.”

****

Kili convulsed wildly in his uncle’s arms, a half-scream slipping from his lips. He was near delirious with worry for Fili, and hearing Bilbo suffer was more than he could bear. Thorin hushed him as best he could, glancing around at the Company.

****

He was torn. Likely Smaug would kill him on the spot, and just continue to torture Bilbo. He’d be doing the dwarves no favors, and Kili could never get over the loss of two of his kin in the same day. On the other hand, this was his first chance to do something to help the hobbit since he was taken. Was it worth the risk?

****

A fresh scream spilled from the hobbit’s lips on the other side of the wall, and Thorin knew there was no choice to be made. Kili was sobbing again, and at a nod from the king, Dwalin moved over to take his nephew from him. Kili curled into the tattooed dwarf’s chest without any complaint.

****

“No one is to open the door until I give the word, is that understood?” Thorin said tersely. Without waiting for an answer, he got to his feet and pushed the heavy door open, blinking in the sunlight. Stone grated against stone as it closed behind him, sealing him out.

****

X

****

Bilbo was curled up on the grass and crying silently when the door opened. Thorin’s eyes went first to the halfling, feeling hot rage sear through his belly. A bandaged hand wrapped around Orcrist’s hilt. It was impossible to see exactly _how_  injured the once-burglar was, and the dwarf king raised his eyes to the dragon.

****

Smaug was immense. He could easily crush Thorin underfoot, just as he almost had all those many years ago. A tingle of fear ran down the dwarf’s spine, but he ignored it. He raised his gaze defiantly, careful not to make actual eye contact. Many good people had lost their wills that way, and Thorin did not intend to join them.

****

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Smaug rumbled, sounding far too smug. It only made Thorin’s blood boil all the more. “How very kind of you to join us.”

****

Thorin gripped Orcrist more tightly, paying no attention to the sharp pain in his palms as he did so. “Speak, beast. What is it that you want?”

****

Smaug lowered his neck, bringing his head down to the dwarf’s level. Thorin resisted the urge to meet his eyes.

****

“I want to keep my prize,” the dragon announced. “And I want you to leave.”

****

“The halfling is no prize to be won!” Thorin shouted angrily, his temper getting the best of him for a moment before he remembered to stay level-headed. It wouldn’t do to shout at a dragon. He’d end up dead if he kept that up.

****

A puff of smoke went out from the dragon’s nostrils, and he nosed the hobbit gently. Bilbo stirred, looking up at the great creature with blank eyes. No words passed between them as Bilbo shakily stood, leaning on Smaug’s mighty head for support. One hand stayed wrapped around his torso as he limped towards where Thorin stood, Smaug keeping him upright.

****

“Look into his eyes, Thorin. Tell me that he isn’t mine,” the dragon taunted.

****

The king-in-exile swallowed, showing his first signs of uncertainty as he glanced over at Bilbo. The hobbit’s blue eyes were glazed over with pain, but behind that, he was empty. Smaug had hollowed him out and made him into something that did not even _recognize_  Thorin, and that hurt far more than the dwarf had anticipated.

****

His shoulders slumped, his grip on Orcrist’s hilt loosening. “What are your terms?” he asked, defeated.

****

There was no rescuing that Bilbo. The hobbit he had known was long gone. Protecting his kin, then, was the priority. If they had to leave this mountain defeated, then...at least they were alive.

****

A chuckle rumbled out from the dragon’s throat. “Bind the halfling’s wounds. I will return for him in an hour. After that, I will allow you to leave my mountain. But you must swear to never return. If you attempt to leave with the halfling, I will slaughter you all. And if you do not leave as I have asked, I will kill your fellows slowly and make you bear witness to it.”

****

Thorin gritted his teeth. His pride rebelled against all of this. After fighting so hard for Erebor, he was expected to simply turn tail and run?

****

But what choice did he have? To die in such a way was not noble or glorious, no matter what the stories said. Thorin understood now. The lives of those he loved were so very precious. Was he willing to see them all killed with no chance of victory because of his own stubborn pride?

****

“Well?” Smaug prompted.

****

They had lost their hobbit. Fili’s fate was unknown. Thorin wouldn’t risk any more innocent lives.

****

“Very well, dragon,” he agreed wearily. “You have my word that I nor my kin will return to this mountain.”

****

Triumph gleamed in Smaug’s golden eyes, and he pushed the hobbit roughly towards the dwarf. “I will return in one hour,” he announced, and launched himself back into the sky.

****

Thorin caught Bilbo by instinct, his arms wrapping around the small broken creature. The halfling collapsed just a moment later and Thorin sank to the ground, holding Bilbo close and pressing a kiss to his brow.

****

“Open the door,” he said to the other dwarves. “Our fate is decided for us.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! We're getting much closer to the end than I thought!
> 
> I apologize for the delay. I know I promised a quicker chapter but then RL hit really hard and I couldn't really write anything until a few days ago.
> 
> We're starting to get to the point where I'm going to need opinions. I have a lot of plans for this, and it's going to keep going for a while here. The problem is that it'll finally hit a point where it won't fit the description for the actual fic. Sooo....would you lot rather I make it a sequel, or just turn this into a possibly ridiculously long fic?


	7. Chapter 7

“I’ve got you.”

 

Bilbo blinked sightlessly at the dwarf king, trembling uncontrollably as his small fingers curled into that thick fur mantle. Thorin sucked in a quiet breath, trying to reposition the hobbit so he could get to his injuries, but Bilbo refused to budge.

 

“I’m trying to _help_!” Thorin growled, frustrated.

 

Stone grated as the door was pushed open, and Kili was off like a shot, running down the slope to find his brother. Thorin watched his nephew go, something twisting in his chest. He made to get up, but the hobbit’s hands were still clutching at him, keeping him down. Big, frightened blue eyes blinked up at him, and Bilbo’s lips parted.

 

“Th-Thorin?”

 

The king-in-exile froze at the sound of his name, looking down to the source. Bilbo, poor, abused little Bilbo, was looking at him in a mixture of fear and relief.

 

“Thorin,” the hobbit murmured again, and his eyes closed.

 

Smaug had meant for this to happen, Thorin was sure. He’d meant for the dwarves to give up on their smallest companion, only for Bilbo to tug at their heartstrings again. But the deal was set. The hobbit would stay, and the Company would walk free. Once again he was paying the price for their freedom.

 

It wasn’t _fair_!

 

There was a shout from further down the mountain, and Thorin recognized it instantly as Kili’s voice. “Oin, Gloin, take care of the halfling,” he ordered, prying Bilbo’s fingers from his front. The hobbit moaned, but Thorin couldn’t stay here, not when Kili so clearly needed him.

 

He brushed a hand briefly through Bilbo’s hair and surged to his feet, running down the mountain towards where he’d heard his nephew yell. Bilbo very nearly sobbed as the king-in-exile left, and Bofur gently gathered the halfling into his arms, stroking through his sweaty curls.

 

“Easy lad,” Bofur murmured. “We’re all here. Let’s get you taken care of.”

 

A familiar voice and reassuring touches were just what Bilbo needed. He relaxed then, gazing up at Bofur as the healers worked open his borrowed clothes to examine his wounds.

 

The self-inflicted injuries weren’t the only ones, though they were certainly the freshest. The hobbit’s skin was littered with scars and half-healed cuts, as well as an impressive number of shiny burns. The dwarves winced in sympathy as Oin began to tend to him, being as gentle as possible. Bilbo whimpered, shivering in Bofur’s arms.

 

“Kill me,” he whispered, and fainted.

 

X

 

Kili’s boots came down hard, crushing the soft grass underneath him. He ran as fast as he could, his thoughts fixed only on finding Fili, on praying fiercely that his brother was safe. Already he had learned these paths extraordinarily well, and his feet took him down familiar trails without thought.

 

“Fili!” he cried out at the top of his voice, darting along a different path. He had to find him, he _would_ find him, and Fili would be just fine, he had to be...

 

A blur of gold caught Kili’s eye, and he abruptly changed paths, faster now. “Fili!” he shouted again. Soon he caught sight of his brother’s familiar blond hair, the light furs that belonged only to Fili. Anxiety pounded through his veins, and before long, the young archer had skidded to a halt at Fili’s side.

 

“Fi,” he breathed. His older brother was flat on his back, one leg bent at an unnatural angle and blood staining across most of his face. _Smaug hadn’t touched him_.

 

Blue eyes fluttered open at the nickname, taking the younger dwarf in slowly. Kili cried out, this time in relief, taking his brother’s hand in his own and squeezing it. Fili winced.

 

“Quietly, brother,” he croaked, but there was a small smile on his face. “Not so loud.”

 

“I hate you,” Kili mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes. “I _hate_ you, you stupid...cow.” He pressed a kiss to his brother’s lips, long fingers stroking gently through his lion’s mane.

 

“Cow?” Fili raised an eyebrow, looking exhausted and a little unfocused but certainly still his mischievous self. “That’s the best you can do?”

 

Kili couldn’t help but giggle, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

 

Fili gave his brother a tired smile before his eyes closed again, letting out a shaky breath. “Thought that dragon was going to eat me,” he admitted quietly.

 

Kili nodded, even though Fili couldn’t see it. He kept his brother’s hand in both of his own, desperate for a little physical contact but nervous about hurting him by accident.

 

“Don’t scare me like that again or I’ll kill you,” he said abruptly, his voice rather fierce.

 

Fili’s eyes opened and he smiled. There was a shout from somewhere above them, and relief flooded through the injured dwarf. _Thorin_. There was no one he wanted to see more right now, besides maybe his mother.

 

He squeezed Kili’s hand. “Go get him,” Fili murmured. “I don’t fancy staying down here until the dragon comes again.”

 

“I’ll be right back,” Kili promised. He squeezed back gently and kissed Fili’s brow before straightening up and running off to find Thorin.

 

X

 

It only took Thorin and Kili a few minutes to return to the injured dwarf, but by that point Fili had passed out again. This time Kili did a sweep for injuries, finally noticing Fili’s clearly broken leg.

 

While Thorin attempted to bring Fili back around, Kili dropped instead to examine the injury. He drew one of his knives, creating a rip in his brother’s trouser leg enough to where he could tear all the fabric below the knee off completely.

 

The string of curses that followed was certainly creative, and were they in any other situation, would have earned Kili a slap. Instead, Thorin added a few choice expletives to Kili’s statement.

 

The fall had broken Fili’s leg, the pressure causing the bone to buckle. Kili gagged as he realized the shard protruding from his brother’s shin was the bone itself, darkened with blood from the wound it had caused.

 

“Fili...oh _Mahal_...” Kili moaned, barely managing to keep from emptying his stomach.

 

The bone would need to be pushed back into place before they could bind the wound, which was still bleeding steadily. If they didn’t act fast, Fili would bleed to death. Thorin’s gaze snapped back to Kili, his voice sharp.

 

“Bring Oin here. _Now_.”

 

Kili hesitated only a moment before nodding and dashing off to fetch the healer. Thorin watched him go before leaning back down, trying to rouse Fili once more.

 

X

 

Bofur sighed as he looked down at the unconscious hobbit in his arms. Oin had since finished bandaging the worst of the wounds, and Ori had offered his best furs to keep Bilbo warm for now. Bofur kept him close to the fire, adjusting Bilbo to rest his head in the dwarf’s lap and pull the furs up to his chin. The hobbit mumbled something incoherent and snuggled a little closer.

 

It was almost physically painful to see their burglar like this. Bofur had been one of the first to befriend him, and had stayed close to Bilbo’s side for almost the entire journey. On some particularly cold nights, they had shared a bedroll to keep the hobbit warm. Of course, Bilbo had probably thought Bofur was just as cold as he and being practical. But dwarves could withstand extreme weather far better than other races, and after living most his life in mineshafts, Bofur was hardly affected by the chill in the Misty Mountains at all. Watching Bilbo shiver beside him had led him to invite the hobbit to share a bedroll for warmth. After the first night, Bilbo crawled over to cuddle with the dwarf for many more to follow.

 

The halfling had become a very dear friend throughout the journey. Bofur stroked through damp curls, watching Bilbo sleep. The resulting sigh from the small creature just made his heart ache.

 

“D’ you s’pose there’s a way to save ‘im?” Bofur asked aloud. A few of the dwarves looked up at him in surprise, the rest staring at the ground.

 

Balin shook his head slowly. “Not without risking everyone else’s lives as well,” he replied.

 

“I’d do it.” Bofur’s response was immediate, a sudden flare of emotion rising up in his chest. “I’d risk m’ life for his. I’d die for him!”

 

There was a long silence. Ori frowned, getting to his feet. “I’d do it, too.”

 

“Ori, sit _down_!” Dori tugged at his younger brother’s tunic, but Ori shook his head, pulling away and joining Bofur by the fire.

 

He paused a moment and took one of the hobbit’s limp hands in his own. “Bilbo’s nearly died for all of us several times over,” Ori said quietly. “We all came here knowing there was a chance we wouldn’t make it home. We can’t give up.”

 

The Company was quiet, the dwarves thinking it over. Dwalin opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Kili, his face white and strained. Everyone turned to look at him, anxious for news of Fili.

 

“Fili...H-he’s alive,” Kili stuttered. “But Oin, we need you. He...he broke his leg, and the bone...” The young dwarf swallowed. “It’s sticking out. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

 

Despite his age, Oin was surprisingly quick to get  to his feet, gesturing for his brother to follow.

 

“Lead the way, lad,” Gloin said gruffly.

 

X

 

Kili didn’t think he would ever get his brother’s scream out of his ears. By the time he had returned with Oin and Gloin, Thorin had managed to bring Fili back around. He’d been _awake_ when they had forced the bone back into place. Kili couldn’t watch; he’d just held Fili’s arms down and kept him still when he struggled and cried and _begged_ for them to stop. By the time Fili succumbed to unconsciousness, there were tears streaming down the youngest Durin’s face and he couldn’t stop shaking. He’d never heard Fili beg before.

 

Fili hadn’t woke or even showed any inclination of waking after that. Thorin had carried him back to where they made camp, and now Kili sat with his brother’s head in his lap, fingers combing absently through his golden locks. Fili’s leg had been bandaged and set in a makeshift splint of branches and strips of fabric to keep it in place.

 

“He can’t travel like this,” Kili murmured to Thorin, his gaze focused on Fili. His brother was too pale, too still. “He’ll die if we leave now.”

 

Thorin said nothing. He had told Smaug he and the others would leave, but Kili was right. Fili had lost too much blood to travel, and there was no way he could walk on that leg. His condition was uncertain enough as it was, but if they were to force him all the way back across Middle-Earth, he would never make it.

 

His eyes drifted to rest on Bilbo, asleep in Bofur’s lap. The hobbit looked terrible, skinny and frail. It was hard to believe this was the same person that had so valiantly saved the lives of the Company time and time again. Was Thorin really willing to give him up to a dragon to save the lives of his kin?

 

“Uncle?”

 

Thorin shook himself out of his thoughts, turning to look at Kili. “I do not know what to do,” Thorin admitted quietly. “Smaug will slaughter us if we do not accept his terms, but for us to have come so far, only to turn back, does not sit well with me. But I gave him my word....”

 

There was a dangerous sort of glint in Kili’s eyes, one that Thorin had learned not to trust. “Let Fili and I stay here,” he said softly.

 

Thorin stared. “No.”

 

“Wait, just listen.” Kili was pale, his arms looped protectively around his older brother. “If Fi and I stay, then we won’t be breaking your word. We’ll wait until he’s healed up, and then we’ll kill the dragon and save Bilbo. He won’t be expecting us at all. We could _do_ it, Thorin.”

 

Thorin was quiet for a long moment, assessing the pros and cons. Normally he would not even consider such an idea, but these were desperate times and Fili needed rest.

 

“I cannot allow you to challenge Smaug,” he said finally. “The odds aren’t in your favor, whether you surprise him or not.”

 

“But--” Kili tried to interrupt, but Thorin held up a hand and he fell silent again.

 

“I know you want Fili safe, but so do I, Kili. I want both of you safe. I will not allow you to be so foolhardy.” Thorin rested a hand on Kili’s shoulder. “We’ll go as slowly as we need to and stop in Lake-town for Fili.”

 

Kili didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally he looked up at his uncle. “You’re giving up on Erebor?” he asked, his tone accusing. “On Bilbo?”

 

That stung. “What choice do I have, Kili?” Thorin shot back, keeping his voice low. There was no reason for the others to hear this. “If we don’t agree to the dragon’s terms, we will all be killed and the royal line of Durin broken. We did not plan this carefully enough and I will not allow any more lives to be lost than necessary.”

 

But Kili was still shaking his head, his gaze turning hard. One hand tightened around Fili’s most prominent braid. “Then what was it all _for_? What does Bilbo’s sacrifice mean, or Fili’s?” His breath came fast, tears starting in his eyes again. “He’s never going to walk properly, Thorin! And for what, for us to just...give up?”

 

Kili shook his head again, glaring at his uncle with such ferocity that it surprised Thorin. Kili had never looked at him like that, not even once.

 

“It’s got to mean something. It _has_ to. Maybe you can give up, but I can’t. Not when Fili’s...” He swallowed hard, forcing the next word out. “ _Crippled._ ”

 

The accusation and hurt in Kili’s tone struck Thorin to the very core. Pushing himself to his feet, he squeezed Kili’s shoulder briefly. “I’m just trying to protect you both,” he said quietly, and walked away.

 

Kili shuddered and hung his head, trying his best not to burst into tears in front of everyone. But Fili, crippled for life now...at best he would have a limp, but if the bones didn’t set like they were supposed to, his leg could end up completely useless. Until they got to Lake-town or somewhere similar, where the healers had all the proper materials they needed, they couldn’t be sure that Fili’s leg had been set correctly, and by that point it would be too late.

 

Kili’s shoulders started to shake and he gripped Fili’s braid tighter in his hand, tears spilling down his cheeks. He couldn’t let this happen for nothing. He _couldn’t_. He loved Fili more fiercely than anything in the world, and seeing him hurt was agonizing.

 

It wasn’t Thorin’s fault that Fili was hurt. No, Kili blamed himself for that. What he did blame Thorin for was not giving them a chance to avenge Fili’s injury. He understood why Thorin had made the decision he had, that he’d chosen the lives of the Company over Erebor, but a fire burned in Kili’s heart. Someone had to _pay_ for what had happened to his brother.

 

A surprisingly soft hand on his shoulder made Kili blink and look up. Bilbo sat beside him, giving him a small, sad smile and gently mopping away the dwarf’s tears with his sleeve. Kili had heard stories of the dragonspell and what it could do to someone, how it could bend a person completely into something they weren’t, but this was so clearly the hobbit that Kili knew and adored.

 

His eyes filled with moisture again, angry and sad all at the same time, and he let his head drop to rest on Bilbo’s shoulder, hiding his face in the halfling’s neck. Small fingers stroked through Kili’s dark hair, smoothing out the tangles, and the young dwarf cried in earnest. He cried for Fili’s leg, for losing Erebor, for the final sacrifice the hobbit was about to make for the Company.

 

The other dwarves kept a respectful distance, though they too mourned for what was to come.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh wow, this was not meant to take so long to write. I apologize for the delay, but this chapter is almost twice the length of my usual, so hurray? 
> 
> Anyway, you all are going to love the next chapter if I can get it the way I want it. Muahahaha! Adventure!
> 
> Also I apologize for the melodramatic ending of this chapter. I couldn't get it the way I wanted it :(


	8. Chapter 8

“Thorin you can’t, you _can’t_!”

 

Kili screamed and fought against Dwalin’s hold as he was dragged away from the halfling. Bilbo looked frightened and confused, and it made the young dwarf want to cry.

 

“Bilbo! You have to kill him, understand? Kill Smaug! Please, _please_ , it’s the only way this can end happily!” He had no idea if the hobbit could really understand what he was saying, though Bilbo certainly looked troubled, and he reached out a hand in Kili’s direction from where he stood.

 

“Don’t let him die, we can’t let...Dwalin, please...”

 

Kili looked pleadingly up at the tattooed dwarf. Dwalin shook his head, loosening his grip on the younger dwarf. “This isn’t my decision to make,” Dwalin told him gruffly, and pushed him towards the tunnel. “Stay with your brother. We’ll get you when it’s over.”

 

Kili staggered a few paces before turning his terror-stricken gaze back to Dwalin. The older dwarf couldn’t meet his eyes, instead calling for Ori to join the lads. The young scribe hesitated before entering the tunnel, his hand briefly clasping one of Dwalin’s, and Kili blinked in surprise.

 

But then Fili moaned, and the incident was forgotten as Kili dashed to his brother’s side, taking one of Fili’s hands in both of his and watching him anxiously. He was trembling slightly, and Kili pulled off his coat, covering his brother with it and tucking him in tenderly.

 

X

Thorin, Dwalin, and Bilbo were the only ones left outside when Smaug returned. The hobbit was clinging to Thorin, breathing in slow and carefully against the dwarf’s front. Thorin held him protectively, knowing it was likely the last time he would see his dear friend. Beside them, Dwalin was silent and stern, his axes drawn and hanging loosely from his hands.

 

They may not be able to do much to the dragon, but they could at least cut an intimidating figure. One last show of defiance, even as they caved to Smaug’s will.

 

The dwarves did not flinch when the great beast dropped down from the sky beside them, though the shudder it sent through the ground had them both staggering for balance for a moment or two. Bilbo began to tremble and Thorin held him a little tighter.

 

“Thorin Oakenshield,” the dragon hummed, and he sounded so very smug that it was difficult to keep from just attacking Smaug right now. Dwalin’s grip tightened around his axes. “I would thank you to return my hobbit to me.”

 

For a long moment, nothing happened. Dwalin cast a glance in his king’s direction. Thorin was still holding the little creature close to his chest, his eyes locked with Bilbo’s. The hobbit’s lips twitched into a tiny smile and he gave Thorin a little nod.

 

The dwarf swallowed, arms tightening around Bilbo in one final tight embrace. Looking visibly upset, Thorin released the hobbit and gave him a gentle push in Smaug’s direction. It took him a moment or two to recollect himself, smoothing his expression into something more neutral and suitably kingly. It almost made Dwalin sad.

 

Bilbo patted Thorin’s cheek before returning to his place at Smaug’s side, his elven short sword gleaming in the sunlight at his hip. He touched the hilt and for a wild moment Thorin thought maybe he was about to plunge the blade into the dragon’s heart like Kili had pleaded for him to, but then the hobbit’s hand moved instead to brush against smooth scales. Something tightened in Thorin’s stomach and Smaug chuckled in satisfaction.

 

The dragon crouched, and with a little help, Bilbo clambered up onto his back.

 

“Wait,” Thorin said abruptly, and Smaug turned two golden eyes on him. Worry spiked in Dwalin’s chest but he said nothing. It was too late to renege on their deal now.

 

“One of ours is injured,” the king-in-exile told Smaug. “For him to travel now would be to court death.”

 

The dragon appraised him for a few moments. “You have until dawn to leave,” he allowed. Thorin bit down on the inside of his lip. Fili needed a few days, not a few _hours_. But Smaug was not one to be questioned. His answer given, he took to the skies, the hobbit clinging to his back. Thorin watched them go, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He felt the scabs tear and start to bleed again, but he didn’t care.

 

Bilbo was gone.

 

X

 

It was dumb luck that Nori found one of the ponies. He’d slipped off for a bath and maybe some fresh water by the river, only to find one of their shaggy little ponies drinking at the stream, still fully saddled. She hadn’t complained at all when the dwarf stroked her nose and gently led her back up to the tunnel, obediently clopping along beside him.

 

What was more, there was _food_ in her saddle bags. That brought smiles to the Company, if only brief ones. They had enough now to make it to Lake-town, providing that some of the others hunted to supplement their meager supplies.

 

The pony was unsaddled for a good rub down, and was told several times over by several of the dwarves what a very good girl she was. She seemed to like that, tossing her head back and nickering at the Company.

X

 

Bilbo’s eyes were closed when Smaug shifted into a Man. It was strange, to one second be gripped lightly between talons and the next to be held gently against a bare chest. He felt safer with this Smaug, the one with more soft skin than scales, and sighed softly.

 

Smaug set him down and Bilbo’s eyes opened, reaching out for the dragon. Chuckling, Smaug laid down beside him, pulling the hobbit close.

 

“I missed you, little rabbit,” he hummed, and Bilbo smiled, nuzzling into him.

 

“Missed you too,” he mumbled. “Going to take me?”

 

That made Smaug laugh, and he brushed a hand across Bilbo’s face, pushing his curls back behind his ears. “Oh no,” he told him. “Not today. You need rest. We’re going out tomorrow, and I want you to be at your full strength.”

 

Blue eyes blinked in confusion at the dragon. “Where are we going?”

 

“My dear Bilbo, you didn’t _really_ think I was going to let those dwarves escape alive, did you? No, no. Tomorrow, we’re going on a hunt.”

 

X

 

Kili slept fitfully at his brother’s side, curling up closer to him and resting his head on Fili’s chest. With Bilbo gone and Fili too pale and sleeping, Kili couldn’t help the strong emotions bubbling up inside him. For much of the night, he cried silently into his brother’s chest. Thorin, Dwalin, even Ori tried to get him to relax, to join them for a bit, to _eat_ something, but Kili refused. He wouldn’t do anything until Fili was alright.

 

Kili woke just before dawn to fingers in his hair, tucking those messy tangles back behind his ears and stroking. He yawned, feeling content for now, leaning into those fingers with a sound not unlike a purr. That earned him a familiar chuckle, and Kili’s eyes shot open.

 

“Fili,” he breathed, looking up at his brother. Fili smiled back softly, still gently stroking through Kili’s hair. Stretching up, the younger dwarf pressed a tiny kiss to Fili’s chapped lips. “How are you feeling?” He kept his voice low, not wanting to wake any of the others before they had to leave.

 

Fili’s smile was fond but tired, and he reached for Kili’s hand, holding it loosely. “Tired,” he admitted, his voice hoarse from misuse.

 

Kili nodded, giving his hand a squeeze. “How’s the pain?”

 

“Not too bad, when I’m not moving.” Fili chuckled. Kili gave him a tight smile, though it was clear he was still worried. But it was something else, too. Fili’s own smile faded. “What is it? What happened?” he asked anxiously. “Is it something to do with the dragon?”

 

Kili looked away, and Fili could practically feel the bitterness radiating off his younger brother. “Thorin made a deal with him,” he said in a low voice. “Smaug asked us to bind Bilbo’s wounds in exchange for our freedom. We’ll be leaving for Lake-town at dawn.”

 

Fili propped himself up on his elbows, looking horrified. “ _What_?”

 

A few of the others stirred, but Kili ignored them in favor of his brother. “I’ve tried to talk Thorin out of it, but he won’t see sense,” he said darkly. “Bilbo is already gone. At least we found a pony for you and Lake-town isn’t far, but Thorin gave his word neither him or his kin would return to the mountain.”

 

Fili’s jaw tightened with familiar stubbornness. “We’ll just have to break that word,” Fili muttered, and hope stirred in his younger brother’s chest.

 

X

  


Fili’s injuries had left him still very weak, and Kili worried constantly over him. He gave Fili half of his own rations, as even with the extra food they had next to nothing. It was a relief when Fili didn’t notice, though some of the others did, and frowned. While Fili was weak, they couldn’t afford any of the others to fall ill or be too weakened by lack of food. There was only one pony, after all.

 

Getting Fili onto said pony was more of a challenge than anyone could have expected. It took several long, pain-filled moments before Fili was finally securely atop the pony. His leg was in agony, and he buried his face in the pony’s dirty mane, clutching at the coarse hair.

 

Then finally they were on their way. Kili insisted on leading Fili’s pony himself, and after everything he had been through, Thorin couldn’t say no to him. The mood was grim. Unlike much of their journey, there was no joking or singing or smoking. Even Bofur, the most gregarious of the group, was silent as he walked beside Bombur.

 

They took breaks often, though getting Fili off the pony was out of the question as it would only cause him more pain. The golden haired dwarf spent much of the day unconscious, slumped forward against the pony’s neck. She seemed to understand her rider was not doing well, and took care with her movements, hardly jostling the sleeping dwarf at all. For that she earned a portion of Kili’s lunch rations and a stroke down her nose.

 

Dinner too was a quiet affair. Fili’s bandages were changed, and Oin made the injured dwarf a tea brewed with his dwindling herbs. It smelled awful, and apparently tasted even worse, but Kili was relieved to see some of the color come back into his brother’s face.

 

Kili bristled when Thorin came over to join them, but Fili was much more welcoming. Giving his younger brother a small smile, he shifted to rest his head in his uncle’s lap. Thorin hesitated a moment before gently reaching down to run his fingers through Fili’s golden locks.

 

“Lads,” Thorin began a little awkwardly, looking around to be sure the others were giving them some privacy. Kili was still glaring at the ground. “I know you both have sacrificed a great deal on this journey. It’s not been easy for either of you. You have been strong, and both of you have proved yourselves true warriors of the line of Durin. I am...proud of you.”

 

Kili looked up in surprise at that. Thorin doesn’t talk about his feelings often. He doesn’t ever praise like this. He shows his pride in his nephews often just through touches or a smile. But he’s never actually said it, and it made Kili feel both warm inside and anxious for what Thorin would say next. Still, he chose not to interrupt, his attention rapt on his uncle now. Fili was watching as well from behind a curtain of hair.

 

Sensing now that he had both boys’ attention, Thorin went on. “It must be strange for you to see me back down with victory so close. I have always wanted to reclaim Erebor and I have not made it a secret, to you or anyone else. But more than that, I have wanted to do what was best for our people, and for you lads. With the dragon still living and our burglar...indisposed, there is little we can do now.” He paused to be sure they were both still listening. Sure enough, there were two sets of eyes locked intently on his face.

 

“What good would it do our people, or your mother, to fight a battle that we surely cannot win?” He spoke earnestly, hoping that his words would resonate with them, help them understand why he was doing what he was doing. They were his family, and he wanted them on his side. If Kili could not forgive him, perhaps he could at least understand.

 

“What good would it do for us all to perish? None at all. We will just have to keep faith that our burglar will come through someday and kill the beast.” The odds of that were incredibly low though, after seeing Bilbo in the puppet-like state he was in. It didn’t seem like the hobbit would be able to do _anything_ without Smaug’s say so. But maybe, just maybe, that old fighting spirit would break through again. They could only hope.

 

Kili was shaking, head bowed as he wiped at his cheeks. Thorin reached out to him, tugging gently at his coat, and to his relief, his nephew didn’t fight. He leaned into his uncle’s shoulder, silent sobs ripping through him. One hand wrapped around Kili’s shoulders, brushing through his hair, as the other stayed in Fili’s messy hair.

 

It was hard for all of them. Losing Bilbo was a very difficult loss. But at least now they could go through it together. They were family, after all. They were strongest when united, and Thorin was grateful to have his fierce young nephews at his side.

 

It wasn’t about Erebor anymore. In truth, it had never really been about the place itself that had drove Thorin. He had wanted to see his people restored to relative wealth and pleasure. How blind he had been to not see before? Balin was right; their life in the Blue Mountains was a good one, worth more than all the gold in Erebor. It was where his people were content, where they had made a life for themselves. It had been wrong of him to think that could not be enough. It was enough to have his nephews safe and happy, something he didn’t have right now.

 

“Forgive me,” Thorin murmured to them.

 

Kili looked up, his brown eyes wet with tears. “You don’t ever have to ask, Uncle,” he said, his voice a little choked. His arms went around Thorin’s neck in a loose embrace, and the king-in-exile sighed. Both boys earned a gentle kiss to the top of their heads.

 

Erebor could never be worth more than Fili and Kili.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I said this chapter was going to be intense and I kind of lied. I mean I guess it's sort of intense. but I ended up doing a little more filler than I intended and if I had kept going like I wanted to, it would have been a *very* long chapter and I didn't want you all to wait that long.
> 
> Sorry about that, but next chapter is probably going to be the ending of Part 1. So hurray for that!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I haven't forgotten about this. Okay. Well. Maybe I forgot for a little bit. But then I had so many people here and on another site asking me to continue and I realized I'd left everyone on this horrible cliffhanger, so here's the next chapter.
> 
> I know I was intending to do a big long fic with this, but updates are going to have to wait until after NaNoWriMo at the very least and we'll see if I actually do as much as I had originally planned.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry it's kind of rushed and slapdash. I was having a lot of difficulty writing this.

There was just as little conversation the next morning as there had been the previous day. Everyone was distracted by thoughts of Bilbo, many of them still trying to think of some way they could save their burglar. Kili walked with his head hanging, staring at the ground as he led Fili’s pony along behind him. Fili had his eyes closed, his face hidden in the pony’s mane. Thorin was at the front of the group, silent as he trekked onwards towards Lake-Town. Beside him was Dwalin, doing his best to comfort his friend with just his presence.

 

It was hard to believe that it was really all over. Smaug would continue to reign as King Under the Lonely Mountain and the Company would all go back to their mundane lives, with a single chest of bits and baubles they had found in the troll hoard to share between them. And one lonely halfling would live out what was left of his life as a slave and a plaything.

 

“It isn’t fair,” Kili murmured, and his brother made a noise of agreement.

 

“We’ll go back for him,” Fili replied, his voice tired and strained. But he didn’t mean what he’d said. Thorin would never let them, and even if he did, Fili’s leg would only be a hindrance to the both of them. The lads both knew that. They knew it was over. It was trying to accept it that would be the difficult part.

 

They were in the middle of a large expanse of flat land and dead grass when the wind abruptly picked up. Kili’s head jerked up, panic surging through his chest. The last time he’d felt such a severe change in the weather, exactly like this, was when they had last seen Smaug and Fili had broken his leg.

 

Thorin caught on as well, stopping dead in his tracks and turning on his heel.

 

There was a glint of scarlet in the distant sky, just outside of the Lonely Mountain, and the Company all breathed sharply as one. Smaug.

 

“It seems the dragon has no intention of keeping his deal,” Thorin spat angrily, and looked around for some shelter they could take. It would mean little; if a dragon wanted them dead, they would die. It was inevitable. There was a shelf of rock some distance away, a nice overhanging alcove, and Thorin pointed. “To the rocks! Go! Now!”

 

The dwarves shook themselves out of the horrified stupor they had been standing in and sprang into action, all running for the meager shelter the rocks would provide. Kili was still frozen in place, staring as that glimmer of scarlet grew into a blur. His hair whipped back from the wind and he let out a breath, taking his bow in his hands and drawing an arrow from the quiver on his shoulder.

 

“Kili, what are you doing?” Fili’s voice interrupted his thoughts, pitched high and strained.

 

“I’m not going to die hiding under a rock like a coward,” Kili retorted, his voice firm despite the way his hands were shaking.

 

“No one said we’re going to die, Kili!”

 

Kili leveled a long stare at his brother. “I’m not a fool,” he said softly. “And you need to get out of here, Fili. You can’t fight, and…” he hesitated, swallowing. “Someone needs to tell Mum.”

 

Fili’s eyes went wide with horror. “I’m not leaving you,” he argued, but Kili shook his head.

 

“Get out of here, Fili! Now! You don’t have much time.”

 

“Ki…”

 

Kili swallowed hard and met Fili’s gaze. The blue eyes he loved more than anything were glistening with tears and he knew this would destroy Fili, leaving them all behind. But he would be alive. Hopefully he’d make it to Lake-town and find someone to patch up his leg, and he could send word to their mother, and…

 

Fili leaned over the side of the pony to take Kili’s face in his hands and kiss him hard. It was fierce, passionate, protective, and Kili returned it with no small amount of desperation. When it finally broke and the blond Durin straightened, a brief grimace of pain crossing his face, there was an unspoken understanding between them.

 

Kili nocked his arrow and Fili drew his twin blades, and together they stood against the oncoming enemy.

 

X

 

“Fili! Kili!”

 

Thorin was nearly to the rock shelf when he turned back to see his nephews standing alone in the clearing. No. _No_.

 

“Get over here _now_!”

 

Kili glanced in his uncle’s direction and shook his head. Even from this distance, Thorin could make out the stubborn set to his jaw, so very like his mother’s, and knew there was no arguing with him.

 

“They’ll die out there,” Bofur said unnecessarily, and Thorin nodded.

 

“They know that,” he replied heavily, and knew he couldn’t stand here and watch.

 

Making up his mind, Thorin charged out to meet his sister-sons, Orcrist clutched in one hand. The mingled relief and determination on Fili and Kili’s face to see him only strengthened Thorin’s resolve.

 

If they were to die, they would die together. As a family.

 

Thorin was followed almost immediately by Dwalin, who was tailed by Balin and Bofur, and soon the entire Company was arranging themselves around the lads. No words were spoken, though there were shoulder pats and other gestures of affection and brotherhood. Even Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, Broadbeams by birth, were part of this family. While they weren’t Durin’s Folk, they were part of the Company, and that meant more now than ever.

 

“I’m sorry,” Kili whispered to his brother, and Fili shook his head.

 

“Don’t be,” he replied just as quietly. “I choose to die beside my brother. And I’d rather die now with you than live on as a cripple and be alone.”

 

Those words struck a chord with Kili, and he stood a little taller. “ _Du bekar_ ,” he murmured, and Thorin smiled grimly beside him.

 

x

 

The battle was over quickly.

 

The dragon’s landing shook the ground, and though the dwarves stood firm, Fili’s pony bolted, whinnying in fear. Distracted, Kili’s attention flickered from the enemy to his brother, who was struggling to stay on the terrified pony.

 

Flame roared from the dragon’s maw, swallowing up the young dwarf and making him cry out. It crackled at his skin, caught his clothes alight, and he could see nothing but red and orange and yellow. Kili hit the ground with a sound of pain and attempted to douse the flames scorching across his body. There was a loud roaring sound in his ears, making him deaf to the Company’s calls for him, and when he looked over for Fili, he saw a body lying too still on the ground, golden tassels spread around his head like a halo.

 

Kili tried to yell for him, but there was something wrong with his voice. His face and throat stung fiercely and he found he couldn’t move without hurting. Was this how he would die, on his back like a coward?

 

He staggered back to his feet, blind to all else but the scarlet dragon. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind and drew an arrow. Smaug was trundling towards where Fili lay now, and panic rose up in Kili’s throat. He breathed, took aim, and released.

 

The arrow flew true, striking the beast in the eye. Smaug howled, rearing back, and a small figure tumbled off his back. Kili’s eyes widened.

 

_Bilbo._

 

x

 

The impact of hitting the ground took several moments to process, and he felt not unlike he had been startled out of a particularly realistic dream. He blinked a few times, looking about him. There was a shout from a voice that seemed terribly familiar but at the same time not at all, and he frowned at the figure moving quickly towards him.

 

“Bilbo!” the figure was saying. “Bilbo!”

 

His name! And that figure, that person, he knew them. He knew them very well, in fact, this person meant a great deal to him.

 

Thorin. It was Thorin. Thorin Oakenshield, leader of the Company. It all came rushing back and Bilbo shivered. He was wearing finer clothes than he’d ever seen in his life, albeit a little too big. Dwarven finery. He remembered now, Smaug insisting he put them on. Oh, yes, and he was hurt. Moving reminded him of that. Three shallow stab wounds, self-inflicted. He vaguely remembered doing that to himself too, but it was distant and difficult to recall.

 

_”Bilbo! You have to kill him, do you understand? Kill Smaug!”_

 

The words came back to him as though from a dream, and Bilbo stood slowly, drawing his little sword from it’s scabbard. The mighty dragon was writhing in pain, roaring as black blood dripped from what was left of it’s punctured eye. Bilbo recognized the yellow fletched arrow and allowed himself a tiny smile.

 

He didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t really feel much at all, just a grim sense of determination to end this. And after all this, he could sleep, finally sleep.

 

But Smaug was not ready to give up. Now he had revenge to exact. He took his last few steps towards the fallen, golden-haired dwarf…

 

...And swallowed him whole.

 

Kili’s scream echoed across the flat plain, joined quickly by Thorin’s.

 

But something was happening. Smaug’s one eye was bulging and smoke was issuing from his nostrils. The dragon was choking. The hobbit’s eyes widened in surprise and mild horror as he saw something kicking from inside the dragon’s throat, and a blade suddenly appeared from Smaug’s throat, piercing through the thick scales. Black blood spewed from the injury.

 

The dragon retched, emptying both the contents of his stomach and one exhausted dwarf. Smaug was gagging, gasping, wounded and distracted. This was Bilbo’s chance.

 

Smaug didn’t even notice as the small halfling rushed towards him, gripping Sting tightly with both hands. Bilbo could see that weak point at the joint of his shoulder and chest, the one spot on the dragon that wasn’t coated in thick scales or lined with gems and gold.

 

 _”Kill Smaug!”_  Kili’s voice echoed in his mind. Bilbo took a deep breath and plunged his sword deep into the beast’s chest.

 

And then he blacked out.

 

x

 

Kili was back on his feet and sprinting, pain forgotten for the moment. Smaug was dead, his corpse still oozing out black blood, and _Bilbo had done it_. He was filled with a strange combination of euphoria and panic for his brother and for the hobbit.

 

“Don’t touch the dragon’s blood!” Ori’s voice echoed across the field. Kili had to hide a smile; his friend honestly looked ridiculous, ash smeared across his face and his ruined, oversized robes flapping about him as he ran towards them.

 

Thorin, who had just been about to kneel in it, stopped immediately, looking back at Ori. It was a good thing the scribe had reminded him. “Of course,” Thorin murmured.

 

He swallowed hard, gazing at the little hobbit who was lying in a pool of the sticky black stuff. It was smeared across his face and his hands were coated in it. He wondered if Bilbo was even still alive. Dragon’s blood had varying effects, depending on the dragon in question and their victim. It always caused unconsciousness. What happened after that was impossible to tell. The important thing was that they needed to get it off of Bilbo, and quickly.

 

An idea coming to him, Thorin shrugged off his traveling cloak and carefully scooped the hobbit up with it, gently cradling him in his arms and dropping to his knees. “Oin, check if he’s still breathing.”

 

Kili was torn between Bilbo and Fili, but eventually his loyalty to his brother won out. Tired, covered in burns, Kili staggered to his brother’s side. The stench was horrible, but Kili was beyond any of that now. Gently, he touched Fili’s shoulder. The sick-spattered dwarf opened his eyes, giving Kili a weak smile.

 

“Kili, you’re hurt,” he croaked, and Kili shook his head.

 

“It’s nothing,” he replied. “It’ll heal. Are you alright?”

 

Fili nodded. “Could use a bath,” he said with a weak laugh, and Kili smiled tightly before glancing over at the rest of the Company, now crouched around Bilbo. Fili followed his gaze.

 

“Is he going to be alright?” Fili asked, and his younger brother gave a helpless shrug.

 

“He killed Smaug for us. That dragon blood is all over him, not to mention his injuries from before, and he was under the dragonspell for a while. Who knows what that’ll do to him?”

 

There was a weak cough from the bundle in Thorin’s arms, and thirteen pairs of eyes widened in surprise as Bilbo blinked awake.

 

“I don’t suppose there’s any tea?” he croaked.

 

The Company didn’t stop laughing for a long time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh also just for clarity: "du bekar" translates roughly into "to arms". It's a Dwarven war cry.


End file.
